


Espress Yourself

by Yeah_JSmith



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: AU, Apprentice PI Judy, Barista Judy, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Former Hustler Nick, Open Mic Night, student nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: It's open mic night at Nick's favorite coffee shop, and since he's practically legitimate now, he can make a fool of himself in public...much to the delight of Judy Hopps, the barista he can't stop thinking about.





	Espress Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mersharr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mersharr/gifts).



> Thanks to mersharr for the prompt (two of the most common AU situations: musicians and coffee shops). It's not what I wanted it to be, but hey, it's fluffy.

The thing about natural talent, Nick thought as he pretended to Travis pick a few chords from a song he _wasn’t_ going to play, was that it was easy to fool mammals up to a point, and hard to cultivate true skill. After all, being ahead of your peers for so long made you lazy, no matter how hard-working you otherwise were.

And Nick, sadly, had always been ahead of his peers.

It sounded like the kind of whiny birdshit he’d find in a bad self-insert fanfic, _oh, I’m too smart for my own good, oh, I’m so talented that everyone hates me,_ and Nick did have a check for his own ego in the form of Finnick, who would sooner beat Nick to death with a baseball bat than say anything nice about him. But right here, right now, just a few minutes before his set, Nick lamented his easy ride. Skating by using cheats and loopholes was Nick’s real talent. He’d heard some of the kits singing their hearts out up on stage, and he knew that he couldn’t measure up.

It didn’t even _matter._ It wasn’t like there were talent scouts in the audience, and even if there were, Nick had no inclination to go pro. Music was a hobby, nothing more. He just, you know, didn’t want to be the worst one on stage. Sue him, he liked to be liked. That was why, when he’d decided to go legit, he had opted to do something service-oriented, and chosen massage therapy. Plus, strong paws meant better guitar playing, and vice versa.

“Now don’t get me wrong,” said the pudgy koala on stage with a smirk, “I love bitches. But they made the wrong decision to legalize. There’s a difference between the vixen who begs you to spank her and the nice doe you bring home to Mom, am I right?”

The ugly plucking of random strings on the ukulele (which Nick was 187% sure the koala didn’t know how to play) grated in his ears. At least there was no way he could be the worst one, not with this douche trying to be a comedian. He couldn’t manage to wipe the ugly sneer off his face, but he was sitting on a chair at the back of the fairy-lit coffee shop, so the performer probably couldn’t see it — and nobody else was laughing either, so he didn’t think it was too out of place.

“Yeesh, tough crowd,” the koala said, as though it were the viewers’ fault he wasn’t funny.

“It’s 2016, dickbag,” shouted someone — Nick thought it was the fellow koala in the front — with obvious annoyance. _That_ got a laugh out of everyone, at least.

“He comes here every Saturday, and still doesn’t know how to read the room,” said an amused voice from beside Nick, and he looked over to see Judy Hopps, the gray and white bunny who worked evening shifts on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. She had 298 siblings and a criminal justice degree, and she was working at Espress Yourself to supplement her income while she apprenticed with a private investigator. She was sad that the Mammal Inclusion Initiative hadn’t passed, since she’d pinned all her hopes on Lionheart’s proposed anti-discrimination ordinances and been let down by the voting public, and she wore a disturbing amount of plaid flannel.

Nick knew all of this because they’d been friendly for months, not because he was some kind of creepy stalker.

The cup of coffee in her paw was obviously for him, and Nick took it with a grateful look when Judy added, “Here, it’s on the house.”

 _“On the house?_ Really?”

She shrugged and sat down next to him on a high stool. She was the smallest employee there, but she always looked so self-assured that sometimes he forgot how short she actually was. The flannel shirt was pink today, and her blue leggings left very little to the imagination. Nick tried not to stare, or to imagine, for that matter, but her smile took his breath away. “Okay, it’s on me, but I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Well...thanks,” he replied, and buried his nose in the styrofoam cup. He was never really sure how to respond to someone being nice to him, mostly because it wasn’t a thing that happened very often. The coffee was, of course, perfect, two creams and six sugars, because what was the point of having a drink if it didn’t taste good?

“Hey, it’s hard to put yourself out there. I can’t give you any liquid courage, but at least I can give you some liquid energy.” She touched his arm, which immediately caught fire, and he almost dropped the drink all over his lap like a loser. “You’re gonna be great, I know it.”

He looked over at her. She looked like she believed it, which was weird. “You’ve never even heard me play.”

“I’ve heard you talk, though. I like the way you put words together, and if you put them together like that in your lyrics, I already know your songs are good,” she told him without even missing a beat. Once again, he heated up inside. It wasn’t like he _never_ got compliments; his favorite lemmings sometimes told him his ice cream was great (which didn’t count, because it wasn’t even his ice cream), and he’d been asked out by a few mammals over the years. But Nick did pride himself on his ability to create ideas out of spare words, and he liked that she liked it. Her smile turned into a smirk. “Plus, your voice is easy on the ears.”

The problem was that Nick never knew if she was flirting or not. He wasn’t the only one she thoughtlessly complimented, and since he came here so often to study for his academic classes, he’d had long enough to notice that she especially made time to compliment mammals who looked lonely or upset. There was a lot of anti-predator sentiment brewing politically, even though Mayor Lionheart was a predator himself…

Thank goodness for places like Espress Yourself, whose window sign proudly declared _We have the right to refuse service to bigots_ and whose staff did not put up with harassment.

“I’m not too worried,” he lied, jerking his thumb at the stage. “I could stand up and play the triangle for ten minutes and still be more compelling than this.”

“You play the triangle? Wow, that’s amazing,” she gushed, sounding so earnest and sincere that he almost didn’t realize she was giving him a hard time.

Well, fair was fair. “I had to turn down a music scholarship to help my ailing grandfather, but I tell ya, Hopps, I’d have revolutionized the triangle scene. I had a vision.”

“You can still do it, Nick! I believe in you,” she enthused with wide eyes, and maybe he was just a little too enchanted with her, or maybe it _was_ a joke worth continuing, but either way, it made him laugh.

“...but nothing quite beats a squeeze of the teats, you know what I’m saying?” The koala plucked the uke again. Nick felt sorry for it, having to go home with such an unfunny skeeze. “Thanks, y’all, I’ll be back next week!”

There was some unenthusiastic clapping from the middle of the coffee shop, but Nick privately agreed with the angry red panda in the second row who shouted, “Go find your calling as roadkill, perv!”

Judy snorted beside Nick. When he turned to look down at her, she had her paws over her mouth, obviously hoping nobody had noticed her laugh. He leaned over and asked, “Not allowed to show your true feelings?”

“Up next, we have — Nick Wilde, on vocals and guitar,” said the beaver on the stage. Nick thought he might be the shop owner. He only ever seemed to be there to work open mic nights. “Come on up, Nick.”

“Good luck,” Judy said, but Nick was already in his music and barely heard her. He grabbed his guitar case, rolled his neck, stood, and made his way to the stage. This was it.

He’d never performed before. Sure, he’d played in a public park once or twice, but this was more of a deliberate show. His songs might not be well-received, being originals that had some personal, sentimental meaning that was wrapped in irony, and he knew he wasn’t exactly _a musician,_ but…

...Well. Who cared? It was 2016, and he was 32 years old. In the past six months, he’d been inspired by his new friend to change his life around, and what better way to show off his new mindset than by taking risks he never would have otherwise? He pulled out his mother’s old acoustic guitar, slipped the cable into the removable device that allowed him to connect it to the coffee shop’s amp, and stepped up to the mic.

“Hi, everyone,” he said confidently, even if he felt anything but. He flashed them a smile and winked at Judy, who was on her way back to the counter. “This song’s about those special mammals who just seem to know you perfectly from the moment you make eye contact, and it’s called _Paws Up.”_

He strummed his first chord and began his upbeat, catchy song inspired by the first time he’d been profiled by a dick cop.

* * *

Nick managed to get all the way back to his table before his knees gave out. Nobody was looking at him strangely, but if they had been, and if they’d bothered to ask, he would have said that he tripped over his own foot, which was way less embarrassing than admitting that he was shaking like a leaf and his brain felt weird, like it was going numb. What was it called when the fear was delayed? Was that a thing? Why did he have to want to be liked and appreciated? That was stupid. And inconvenient.

He grabbed at the cup Judy had given him, but he couldn’t _quite_ hold it in his paws. Just in case anyone might be looking, he let it rest on the table and pretended he didn’t want it after all. Why had he volunteered to go last? _Why?_ It had seemed like such a good idea at the time — he’d reasoned that there would be less mammals at the end, and he could slip out if he messed up, but the coffee shop was packed, and the red panda was headed his way, oh God, she was going to call him an idiot and shout about how bad he was at everything, and someone important would hear and it would get back to his instructors and they’d fail him on purpose and he’d have to go back to selling sketchy rugs and

“Good job up there,” she said pleasantly, giving him a cheery grin. “I really liked the second one. Did you write it about someone specific?”

His eyes slid to the counter without his permission — traitorous masses of humor and epithelium and _cripes,_ he needed to lay off the anatomy for a second — but he snapped them back quickly, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Judging by her amusement, he hadn’t been at all slick about it. Still, he tried to save it. “I guess. Mostly it was just for fun.”

(It _had_ been fun to stay up for six hours trying to correct the lyrics to something a little less specific to Judy and then try to explain to his physiology instructor why he’d fallen asleep in class — _oh, wait,_ not fun at all.)

“Well, it made me happy.” She nodded her head at the door. “Just wanted to say that before I left. It’s always nice to see new faces up there on stage.”

She left, swishing her tail behind her, and Nick only noticed because he was having a hard time turning his head. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to get those words out. Wasn’t stage fright supposed to come _before_ a performance? Was he ever going to stop shaking? Maybe he would just stay there forever and become a weird attraction, the shaking fox, and mammals would pay coins to see him—

What the ever-living frick? His brain needed to just _stop._

“I’m fine,” he said aloud.

“Well, _that’s_ good to hear,” said Judy. Of course she’d be nearby. He turned his head finally to see her heading his way, her apron already hung up behind the counter and her nametag no longer pinned to her shirt. Off-duty, then. “I knew you’d be great.”

Nick wanted to thank her for being kind, but what came out was, “I’m awesome. Of course I was great.”

Way to go, Wilde, everyone loved an ego.

Fortunately, she smiled at him and held out a paw. “Need help getting up? They’re closing up soon. Lucy told me to get out of her fur and help you home. She really wants us to date.”

“I can get up just fine,” he replied, but he took her offered paw anyway, because why not. Then, her words hit him. “Wait, she wants _us_ to date? You and me?”

“Well...she wants me to date _someone._ She made a bet with me: if I fall for someone before my apprenticeship is over, she gets to take me shopping. If I don’t fall for anyone, I get to take her rock climbing. Either way we get to have fun together, but she just really likes to win. She knows I like you a lot, but she has no proof unless we seal the deal.”

She liked him. _She liked him._ And clearly she knew that he liked her, or she wouldn’t have been talking about it like a foregone conclusion. Being the smooth, cool, collected fox that he was, Nick knew he could sweep her off her feet with the most romantic line ever. “Maybe we should wait until after you do finish your apprenticeship, just to piss her off.”

...Or he could say something dumb. It was something he’d say if he weren’t taking things seriously, but he really did want Judy to keep liking him.

She grinned at him, looking like he’d just given her a gift, and said, “No, I’d rather not. After hearing you sing tonight, I kind of want to kiss you. A lot.”

“You can if you want.” He leaned forward. “I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Oh, who was he kidding? It was a dream come true. Seriously, he’d dreamed about it the night prior.

Judy tugged on his tie and reached up to loop one small arm around his neck, bringing them muzzle-to-muzzle. It was just a little touch — his muzzle was long, fox-shaped, not great for kissing, and hers was short, and their tongues didn’t even touch, but it was thrilling and lovely and warm anyway. It didn’t need to be sexy to be intimate, it just...had to be.

“We should definitely do that again,” she said faintly. One of her paws reached down to grip his firmly. He felt a stupid grin spread across his muzzle. “But you’ve got finals the week after next and I just got my first solo case!”

“Wow, congratulations,” he blurted, instead of saying something suave or inviting her back to his place or _anything_ that would make him sound exactly as invested as he was.

Sounding distinctly bashful, she answered, “Thanks. It’s nothing big, just a missing otter.”

“You never know — could end up being some crazy cannibal cult kidnapping.”

“Don’t joke! If the ZPD isn’t taking it seriously, I’m sure I’ll just find him holed up with a mistress somewhere. Point is...I’m officially inviting you to dinner two weeks from now. Do you accept?”

“I do,” he said happily. “And hey, if it does turn out to be a horrible conspiracy, you can find my number on all my receipts.”

“You gonna beat the bad guys up for me so I don’t have to break a nail?”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’d rather eat my own kidneys. But I know a thing or two about distractions. I’ll just throw that wannabe comedian at them, and they’ll _beg_ you to make a citizen’s arrest.”

“Wouldn’t that be a spectacle,” she murmured, looking at his mouth.

“One for the ages,” he agreed, bringing one paw up to cup her cheek.

Once again, suddenly, everything was light, and fluffy, and magical —

“For the love of — _get a room,”_ said...someone, probably  _not_ Lucy, from somewhere off to their left.

A wet towel hit Judy’s ear and she started, seeming to burst out of a haze. Nick knew the feeling. Annoyed, but smiling, she patted Nick’s paw on her cheek and said, “I wrote my number on your cup. Two weeks. Text me when you know your schedule.”

“Yeah,” he promised, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off for more than a day.

And hey — it wasn’t like he _really_ believed she’d be terrorized by cannibal cultists. Maybe the case of the missing otter would wrap up in 48 hours, and she could help him prepare for his practicals. She had such a compelling pair of vastus lateralis, not to mention those too-tense deltoids, and who could say no to a free massage?

**Author's Note:**

> WHERE ARE THEY NOW?
> 
> The Emmitt Otterton case took 3 months to solve. Judy and her mentor (who subsequently quit, citing old age and being done with everyone's crap) accidentally caught a bioterrorist at the end of it, 2.5 months after Nick had aced his practicals. The ZPD realized the missed potential of small mammals, but Judy gained a reputation as someone trustworthy in her field; she declined to attend the ZPA. They all lived happily ever after or whatever, except for Dawn Bellwether, she went to prison and was miserable, but she's trash so nobody cares.


End file.
